


A Kiss

by Atanih88



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Batman - Freeform, Drabble, First Kiss, M/M, Past Clark Kent/Lois Lane, SuperBat, Superman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 07:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18912676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atanih88/pseuds/Atanih88
Summary: A first kiss.





	A Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a short drabble for me to test out these characters, couldn't quite decide between DCU and DCEU depictions and I think it's ended up somewhere in the middle. Apologies for any and all mistakes made.

It's the corner of Bruce's mouth as it tilts up in a smile that does it.

It's a conditioned response. Like when Clark finds himself pushing up his glasses on his nose even when they're not there. 

Clark used to do it to Lois, tucking a kiss into the corner of her lips whenever they began to curl. He liked to think he could taste that smile. Sometimes she'd turn into it, part her lips and nibble at his bottom lip.

Sometimes her smile just continued to grow and she'd wrap an arm around his waist and tuck her face into the crook of his neck, a soft warm weight he never wanted to let go of. Sometimes, it led to her fingers curling into his hair and his tongue sliding inside and his hands on her hips—strength tempered, always tempered—dragging all the heat from her mouth.

Bruce isn't Lois.

Clark hears Bruce's intake of breath, short and sharp and his body, always so intimidating and swathed in shadows, stills, sharp angles resembling the gargoyles that look down on Gotham.

But for some reason, Clark doesn't ease away, barely feels the sharp point of the cowl cutting into his cheek. His lips are still soft on Bruce even though Clark's heart is beating so hard he wonders if Bruce can hear it like Clark can hear Bruce's. Because Clark is listening and hears the crazy spike of Bruce's heartbeat before it's calmed barely a few moments later.

When Bruce takes a step back from him, the beginnings of the smile are gone.

Clark slowly straightens. His throat is tight and he doesn't know how this is going to pan out, can never predict how Bruce will react. What Clark does know, which he hadn't five minutes ago, is how at peace he is with this. How the surprise that he'd felt at his own actions had flared and quickly simmered to a warmth and a slow roll of pleasure.

Bruce's eyes are the same colour as the clouds that hover permanently over Gotham, no sign of their deep blue colour in sight. 'Clark.'

And that, that slip—not Superman, but _Clark_ —that makes the tension that had started to build between his shoulder blades dissipate as if it had never been. It doesn’t touch the shakiness in his hands. It feels remarkably like the first time he'd touched Lois and yet it doesn't feel like that at all.

Clark steps close, closing the small gap Bruce had put between them. He wets his lips and now that he's looking again, he can't quite pull his gaze away from Bruce's mouth. Now that Clark knows, he feels the longing in his stomach, a tight sensation that arrows through him when he focuses on Bruce's mouth, fuller on the bottom.

He flicks his gaze up, seeking permission; not wanting to speak because he feels like if he does then it'll break whatever spell is keeping Bruce in place. Clark can't read his face but if he focuses, he can hear Bruce's pulse slipping again, elevating.

Tentative, Clark steps closer still and reaches for Bruce, moulding a hand to Bruce's jaw, hears and feels the rasp of Bruce's stubble along the centre of his palm as he brushes his thumb over the curve of Bruce's lower lip before settling it in the cleft of Bruce's chin.

'Bruce,' he murmurs. 

That's when Bruce huffs a breath and reaches for Clark, curls his fingers into the meat of Clark's shoulder and drags him close, kisses first this time—teeth locking on Clark's bottom lip and digging in just a little too hard before—

Clark's breath hitches at the slide of Bruce's tongue, hot and slick as it slips in, smooth and sure, Bruce's mouth slanting over Clark's, fingers sifting through Clark's hair and clenching there. Clark's moan is quiet and muffled into the kiss. His hands curve around Bruce's waist. He wants to feel it, wants to feel the solidness of Bruce beneath the Bat suit. He barely registers the creak of the material as it strains under his grip.

When Bruce pulls away, Clark struggles to open his eyes and when he does, he finds Bruce staring right at him. His mouth is reddened, that bottom lip swollen and sore looking from the kiss. Clark wishes they were somewhere else so he could look beneath the cowl, try to glean something from whatever expression it helps to hide.

It's not until Bruce gently circles Clark's wrists and tugs on his hands that Clark realises that he hasn't released him. He doesn't want to either.

Above them, the sky rumbles, a threat that's chased by a white flash that throws Bruce's eyes into stark relief.

Clark waits.

'I'm not Lois.'

Clark blinks. 'I know that.' Despite what had driven Clark to start this, he wouldn't mistake one for the other in a million years.

Clark hears the slight indrawn breath Bruce takes as he prepares to speak again but the next flash to cut through Gotham's night isn't lightening and this one stays, flooding the sky and leaving the bat signal up against it.

Bruce looks up and a moment later, he's at the edge of the roof, grapple shot and ready to disappear into the darkness.

'Bruce, I'll come to the cave when you're done.'

There's a pause and a barely there look over Bruce's shoulder. And then, so small Clark almost misses it, a dip of Bruce's head in assent. Then he's gone.

Rain, soft and soothing begins to fall, almost no more than a mist. Unusual for Gotham. Gotham never does anything by halves. Not unlike her protector.

Clark takes that thought with him as he pushes off solid ground and into the air; tilting his face up to the rain and lets it coat his skin.

He smiles.


End file.
